De Miraculis Sui Temporis
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: While investigating a mysterious illness, Sam becomes a victim. Dean and John race against time to find the culprit and save the youngest member of their family. Pre-Series. Dean is 17, Sam 13. Hurt Sam, Angsty protective Dean and John
1. Chapter 1

_A/N I: One year ago today (18-July) I posted my first story. It's been such and amazing year! At the risk of a chick flick moment, I would like to take just a second to thank all of you and send each one a hug. Your support and kindness has meant the world to me, and has gotten me through some very rough patches. Thank you again! _

_A/N II: When I started _In Darkness_, I know I said that I would have a one-shot for the anniversary fic. I guess I lied, I tried to make this a one-shot, bit it seemed like cheating the story. Oh well, new year, new traditions. After hearing from friends that they were having a hard time finding hurt Sam, I thought of this. Special thanks to Nana56 for reminding me of the story of one brother's devotion to another, and how it can save a life. The story is offered especially for TranSan, Manavie, Abni—and dedicated to all my Sam girl readers._

**De Miraculis Sui T****emporis**

**Chapter One**

The illness had swept through the small town with a speed and ferocity that had John Winchester convinced it had to be supernatural, if not demonic, in origin. It tore through families and schools with a violence that shocked him. It struck the young and vigorous of both sexes, suddenly and completely. One moment they were fine, the next fighting for life, no segue, no warning, just from one moment to the next life changed. John hadn't believed it, not really, not even after talking to the parents. Not until it had been brought home in a few short minutes three days before.

_The boys had been in the field behind the extended stay motel they were living in. John was sitting in the patio chair, trying to ignore their serial argument. He had no idea when it started, or even what it was about any longer, the boys just started sometimes, usually during training of some kind. _Maybe it's the training that sets them off?_ John glanced up from the book he was reading, the boys were practicing hand to hand. Dean at seventeen was as graceful as a cat. Sam at thirteen was more like an awkward puppy. Sam's hands and feet had grown faster than the rest of him and he had a tendency to trip over his large feet, just like the Lab puppy that lived three doors down from them._

"_No, Sammy, feint then punch, like this," Dean said, his voice tinged with impatience. John watched as Dean took his brother's hands and moved him through the action. "See?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "Good, let's try again."_

"_I don't want to, I'm sick of this." Sam pulled away, gave Dean a little shove and paced across the field._

"_Don't walk away! We're almost done," Dean snapped. John noted the tension in Dean's shoulders. "Sammy!" Dean's anger and annoyance vibrated in his voice. John understood his elder son's frustration, Sam needed the skills to survive. John sighed and turned back to his research. "C'mon! Lighten up," Dean said. "SAMMY!" The shout was completely different in tone, John looked up in time to see Sam collapse and his brother catch him before he hit the ground. John was up and moving before Dean's shout, "Dad!" left his son's mouth._

"Three days ago, Mary," John said quietly addressing his wife as he drove through town. "Three days, each day worse, we're going to lose him." John felt a tear run over his cheek. "What do I do?" He sighed. "I'm going to bring him home. I can't live with the thought he'd die alone. It would kill Dean. Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

John pulled up in front of the garage Dean was working at, pausing for a minute before he got out. He wiped the tears off his face, stepped out and walked into the small auto parts store that was part of the shop. Dean had gotten the job after stopping by the store looking for parts for the Impala, the owner Rod Weaver, had taken a liking to Dean and offered him the job. It was under-the-table, strictly cash, but Dean enjoyed working and Weaver sold him parts for the Impala at cost.

"John!" Weaver smiled as he came in. "It's good to see you, I'll get Dean."

"Wait, I'd like to talk to you." John cleared his throat. "Has Dean told you…" He stopped himself. _Of course Dean hasn't told him. _"My son Sam…" He stopped again, this time held up by the ball of grief that was nearly choking him.

"Sam? Great kid! He was here, uh, helping Dean the other day." Rod smiled. "He talks a lot, too!" Something on John's face stopped him. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"Sam…He's sick. He's at St. Martin's right now, but I spoke with his doctor and I'm going to bring him home tonight."

The other man's face crumpled into a mask of grief. "My son, Zev, died when he was about Sam's age. Cancer. I brought him home, too. I'm so sorry. Dean's job will be waiting for him. He'll need to work, John." Rod put his hand on John's shoulder. "I know you move around a lot, but stay till Dean's feet are back under him. Yours, too. I understand, you can talk to me, if you need it."

"Thank you," John said. "Is it okay for Dean to leave now?"

"Yeah, he just finished up a job, in fact." Rod walked to the door leading into the work area. "Dean!"

"Yeah?" Dean stepped out of the back, wiping his hands on cloth. "You got something else for me? I was going to…Dad?" All the color drained out of Dean's face. "Sammy?"

"He's okay, I just spoke with his doctor. I'm going to bring him home. I want you to come with me." The words came out of John in a rush.

"Home?"

"Yeah, home. Keeps me from having to bail you out," John said with what he hoped was a smile.

"Bail me out?" Dean asked, stopping in front of them.

"Yeah, someone might catch you sneaking into the hospital after hours."

"You know about that?" Dean looked surprised. "Don't worry, dad, the night nurses know."

"You should have told me." _Because the first night I found your bed empty I panicked. _

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, sorry. Thought you'd know."

"Go get your stuff, Dean. You need to be with your brother. You should have told me about it sooner," Rod said quietly. "Don't worry, the job's not going anyplace."

"Thanks," Dean said. He turned and walked away. John watched as his son stood with his back to him, shoulders bent, head down, as broken as John had ever seen him. A moment later, Dean squared his shoulders, his head came up and he turned back towards them, his coat in his hands. "Let's go. Sammy will be surprised to see us." He smiled at Rod and walked out.

"Thanks again," John said, turning to follow Dean.

"Yeah." Rod walked with him to the door. "Take care."

John nodded and walked out to the truck. Dean was in the passenger seat, staring out the window. John got in and looked over at his son. Dean's hands were clenched, John could see his son's jaw working as he ground his teeth together. "Dean?"

"Does Sammy know we're coming?" Dean's eyes stayed focused forward.

"Not to bring him home. I usually go by around now," John answered as he pulled out.

"How is he? Is he still walking?" Dean asked. He knew the progression of the disease as well as John did.

"The doctor said yes." John sighed. "He's having someone come in and show us how to take care of Sammy."

"No one needs to show me how to take care of Sammy," Dean growled.

"Dean, I meant…"

"I know what you meant, dad. I had Tom, one of the night nurses, show me what I need to know."

"Why?" John asked, trying to still the little pulse of panic in his chest. _He was planning something. _Dean shrugged. "Dean, answer me."

"Nothing."

"Dean?"

"I don't know, dad. I thought I should know, that's all."

John sighed. He knew when he wasn't going to get anymore information from his elder son. "Good idea." John pulled into valet parking rather than trying to find a spot in the crowded lot. Dean hopped out and headed towards the doors. "Wait for me," John called. Dean looked over his shoulder with a frown, but stopped and waited by the entrance.

They walked together through the hallway. Silent as they took the elevator. John watched Dean trying to keep his emotions under control. Each step closer to his brother's room impacted Dean physically. Sam's doctor was waiting for them.

"I'm going to go talk to Sammy." Dean turned towards Sam's room.

"Dean?" John grabbed his son's arm to stop him.

"I don't need him to tell me about Sammy, dad. I know what's happening." Dean turned and walked away.

John watched Dean walk down the hallway. His son paused outside of Sam's room, John saw him lean his head against the doorframe for a moment. Even from where he stood, he could see Dean's hands trembling. A thought formed, with the bright clarity of an absolute truth. John swallowed, his chest aching with the realization. _When we lose Sammy, Dean's not going to last long. Oh, god, what do I do? Mary? How do I save our sons?_

**XXX**

Dean stopped outside the door to Sam's room. What he'd told his father was true, he knew what was happening. His brother was dying. Dean could feel bits of himself dying along with Sam. Dean sighed and rested his head against the cool doorframe for a minute before going in. He could hear the TV coming from Sam's room. From the sound of it, Sam had found a documentary to watch. His brother's penchant for documentaries was something Dean didn't get, but he let it slide most of the time. They'd made a deal—for every show on PBS Sam got to watch, Dean got two shows on another channel. So far it worked well.

With a deep breath to still the trembling of his hands, Dean pushed the door open, watching Sam for a moment before he went in. _Ah, Sammy. _"Hey," Dean said before he was all the way in the room, letting his brother know he was there.

Sam looked over and scrubbed the tears off his face as quickly as he could. "Dean? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Rod gave me the afternoon off. I finished the job on the Chevy, and he said I could go."

"I thought you were going to work on the Impala today," Sam said, frowning as Dean sat on the edge of the bed.

"I was planning on it, Sammy, but I used the distributer in that sixty-six I was working on the other day. Rod ordered another, but it hasn't come in yet." It was only half a lie. He had used the distributer, but the new one arrived that morning. "Thought I'd come by and spring you."

"Spring me?" Sam asked with the same disapproving frown he'd used the night before when Dean had brought up the idea._ He looks so much like dad when he does that, I wonder if dad can see it? _"Dean…"

"Dad's here too, Sammy, he wants you to come home too." Dean laid his hand on his brother's leg and gave it a little squeeze.

"He does?" Sam coughed, his face tight with pain. Dean grabbed a tissue and handed it to his brother so Sam could wipe the blood away.

"Yeah." Dean watched the emotions play across Sam's face. Fear, or maybe it was dread, had the upper hand. "It's okay."

"No, Dean. I know what that means. There's no hope for me, is there?" Sam sighed as Dean opened his mouth to protest. "I know I'm not better. It's getting worse." Sam leaned forward and put his hand over Dean's. "But I'm glad we're going home."

"Let me get your clothes, can't have you running around with your ass hanging out," Dean said, getting up and walking to the closet. He swallowed the lump in his throat. _Sammy doesn't need tears right now. Suck it up. _Dean pulled the clothes he'd brought the night before out of the small closet and helped Sam into them, carefully easing the IV through the sleeves.

"Charlie died this morning, a little after you left," Sam said.

"Oh," Dean said, looking at Sam. Charlie Firkins has been brought in a day and a half before Sam. "Sammy…" Dean stopped, unsure of what to say. He was saved when his father came into the room, followed by a nurse pushing a wheelchair. She unhooked Sam from the nearly empty IV bag. "Doesn't he need that?" Dean asked.

"We have more for when we get home," John said, holding up a large plastic shopping bag.

"Okay, good. Time to go?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," John said quietly. "Ready, kiddo?"

"Sure." Sam said, nodding and swung his legs off the bed. Dean helped him to the wheelchair, letting Sam take the few steps as best he could, but ready to catch him if he fell.

"Let's go," Dean grabbed the wheelchair and wheeled Sam out of the room. He heard Sam chuckle when they rounded the corner to the elevators at a near run, Dean lifting the wheels off the floor a little. "Hit the button, Sammy," Dean said. "We can beat him down." His brother giggled and punched the button, the elevator doors opened and Dean pushed the chair in. Sam was poking at the "door close" button, waving as the door closed before their father could get in. Dean thought he heard a growled curse before the doors shut. Sam laughed.

They exited the elevators and Dean pushed Sam through the hall and into the lobby as fast as he could. Sam was laughing, the joyful sound carrying across the large room. Several people turned to frown at them, but no one stopped them. Dean zoomed out the door and stopped, with an added screech, by valet parking.

"Very funny," John said, coming through the door behind them.

He handed the claim ticket to one of the waiting attendant. Several minutes later, the truck pulled up in front on them. Dean helped Sam up, and gently settled him in the middle. He got in after his brother, putting his arm over Sam's shoulders to give them both more room. Dean noticed his father took the turn that would take them the long way back to the motel, through the agricultural area Sam liked. He looked over at his father, John smiled at him.

"Llama!" Sam said with a laugh, a few minutes later. Dean chuckled and tightened the grip on his brother, trying to let Sam's light-hearted laughter push the dread away. It wasn't working. Sam leaned against him with a sigh. "Llamas, Dean. Remember the one we saw at Christmas? With the red eyes?"

"Demonic llamas, who could forget that?" Dean said, smiling at Sam. Sam smiled back and watched the farm land roll past. By the time they reached the motel, Sam was nearly asleep. "Hey, we're home, Sammy."

"Oh, I missed the buffalo," Sam said sadly.

"We'll go see them tomorrow, Sammy," Dean said gently, squeezing Sam's shoulder.

"Promise, Dean?" His brother looked at him with bright eyes. _If I promise, it means he'll be here tomorrow to see them. _

"Yeah, Sammy, promise."

"Okay." Sam scooted to the edge of the seat when Dean got out of the car. Dean helped him down, but let him walk into the room, hovering behind him, ready to catch him, but letting him go on his own. "Thanks, Dean," Sam said as he sat on his bed.

"For what?"

"Nothing." Sam slid under the covers, Dean pulled them up. "Do you mind if I sleep for a little while?"

"No, I think it's a good idea. Just let me get your IV hooked up first."

"Can I sleep for just a little while without it?" Sam asked, when Dean hesitated he reached out and put a hand on Dean's arm. "I can't roll over when I have it in."

_An hour or two won't make any difference. _"Okay, but just for awhile. Call me when you wake up'" Dean patted Sam's chest. After making sure Sam could reach the remote when he woke up, Dean walked out. "Dad?"

John was sitting at the table, his face bleak, tears on his face. "How's Sammy?"

"Taking a nap. Thanks for taking the long way, dad. He enjoyed it."

"He always does."

"You find anything?" Dean asked, sitting across from his father.

"Nothing, not a damn thing." John sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Time's running out, we have to find an answer."

"We will dad, I know we will."

"In time to save your brother?"

"Yeah. We're already closing in on it. We know it only kills kids under fourteen, we know it started two weeks ago. We're getting close, dad."

"Sammy's dying, Dean."

"You think I don't know that?" Dean demanded. "Sorry." He stood and put his arm around his father. "We'll find the answer in time."

"He has, maybe, thirty-six hours," John said quietly to the table.

"We'll find the answer, dad." Dean leaned against his father. "We have to."

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Not death fic. Not death fic. Not death fic. I promise it's not death fic. Just keep repeating that!_

**De Miraculis Sui Temporis**

**Chapter Two**

The motel lot was nearly empty when John pulled up in front of their room. Dean jumped out and helped Sam through the door and back to the room the two shared. John watched them go, Dean letting Sam walk, but hovering, just in case Sam fell. He could hear their voices as he sat at the kitchen table. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone and called Jim Murphy.

"How's Samuel?" Jim asked as soon as the call was connected.

"I brought him home, Jim," John said, hearing the catch in his voice. "Have you found anything?" _Please. _

"Nothing yet. I've made a few calls, I'm waiting to hear back. It's not random, that helps our chances." There was a pause, John could picture his friend's face. A slight frown, his eyes searching John's face trying to gauge the reaction to something he wanted to say. John waited. "How long…?"

"For Sam. A day, maybe a little more. I need answers right now, Jim."

"I know." The pause again. "John…Miracles can happen."

"Jim…" John swallowed. "Let me know what you find." He hung up before Jim could say anything else. John put his head in his hands, despair catching him unexpectedly—despair tinged with bitterness. _How can he believe that? With everything we see? Miracles?_

"Dad?" Dean stood at the door.

"How's Sammy?" John asked, looking at Dean.

"Taking a nap. Thanks for taking the long way, dad. He enjoyed it." Dean walked to the table.

"He always does."

"You find anything?" Dean asked, sitting across from him.

"Nothing, not a damn thing." John sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Time's running out, we have to find an answer."

"We will dad, I know we will." Dean's voice was determined.

"In time to save your brother?"

"Yeah. We're already closing in on it. We know it only kills kids under fourteen, we know it started two weeks ago. We're getting close, dad."

"Sammy's dying, Dean," John said, trying to stop the tears. He couldn't. _Mary? What do I do?_

"You think I don't know that?" Dean demanded, his face angry. John watched as his son got control over his emotions. "Sorry." He stood and put his arm around John. "We'll find the answer in time."

"He has, maybe, thirty-six hours," John said quietly to the table.

"We'll find the answer, dad." Dean leaned against his father, offering comfort and support. "We have to."

John leaned into the embrace, resting his head against his son. "Where, Dean? Jim can't find anything, Bobby can't. Caleb…The list goes on and on. The theories are starting to sound crazy—even to me."

"Which is hard to do," Dean said with a quiet chuckle. He tightened the arm on John's shoulder, then let go. Dean fussed with the coffeepot, it started gurgling. _Dean's panacea. Make coffee, drink coffee. _"I'll make sure there's enough for Sammy to have a cup when he wakes up. He likes coffee."

"You shouldn't let him drink it black." John frowned at his elder son.

"He likes it that way. Are you worried it will stunt his growth? Really, that might be a good thing, dad," Dean tried for a smile—and very nearly succeeded. "If he grows into those feet, we might regret not encouraging him to take up basketball." Dean poured them both a cup of coffee and came back to the table.

"We might. Thanks," John said, taking the cup of coffee. "Dean…"

"Dad, don't." Dean looked up at him—he looked so much like Mary sometimes it broke John's heart. Not his face, really, but something in Dean's eyes. "I know. I don't need to keep hearing it," Dean said harshly.

"Dean…" John paused, watching the anger simmer in Dean's eyes. _I just want to save you, Dean. _"You need to be prepared for what's going to happen."

"No, I don't, dad." Dean shook his head.

"You aren't prepared?"

"I'm not going to let it happen."

**XXX**

The bed was a lot softer than the one in the hospital. Sam shifted a little, listening to the puppy from down the street barking madly. He could hear Jeremy and Isaac bickering outside. The twins seemed to pick on each other most of the time. _Makes me want to take back the wish that Dean and I were twins. _He sighed, the IV ached in his arm, it made it hard to sleep, but everything did.

Sam was glad to be home. Even though he knew what it meant. His father had brought him home to die. But at least it was home, Dean could be there with him all the time. Sam had been worried that Dean would get caught sneaking into the hospital after hours and that would mean his brother would be barred from the hospital completely.

_It was the end of visiting hours the first night Sam was in the hospital. Dean gave his leg a squeeze and left with their father. When Dean turned back to check one more time before leaving, he'd smiled at Sam. "I won't forget my promise."_

"_What promise?" John demanded. _

"_Nothing, dad." Dean winked at Sam and left the room. _

_It was a big promise, and Sam had no idea how Dean would manage. His brother's pledge to never leave him in the hospital alone hadn't really been tested yet. The last time Sam had spent the night in a hospital, it had been a very small one and they had invited Dean and their father to sit with Sam. He really had no idea how—or if—his brother would get back in, but just knowing the promise was there helped. Sam flipped on the TV and dozed a little, the pain medicine made him sleepy. _

"_Sammy, I'm here," Dean's voice drifted down through the layers of sleep. His brother put his hand on Sam's arm and gave it a squeeze. _

"_Dean? What are you doing back?" Sam whispered, opening his eyes._

"_I promised." Dean shrugged. "Do you want me to go?"_

"_No, I…I don't like…"_

"_I know." Dean looked up when a man walked in. He stopped in the door when he saw Dean. Sam looked at his brother. _

"_Visiting hours are over," the man said._

"_Yep." Dean smiled._

"_That means you aren't supposed to be here."_

"_Yep."_

"_Well?" The man crossed his arms._

"_Look…" Dean squinted at the man's name badge. "Tom. I know I shouldn't be here, but I promised Sam I'd never leave him alone in the hospital." Dean shrugged. "And I'm not." _

"_You expect me to break the rules for you? Risk my job?" Tom asked with a scowl. Sam guessed it was meant to frighten Dean into submission. _

"_Yep," Dean said. Sam smiled. It took a lot to scare Dean._

_He stared at Dean for a long moment. Sam held his breath as the two men sized each other up "Okay," Tom said. "I'll let Paula know. But if you see security, go in the bathroom."_

"_Yeah, I will. Thanks, Tom" Dean said quietly. The man came into the room and checked Sam's vitals. Looking at the machines and taking his blood pressure. "How's he doing?" Dean asked when Tom was done._

"_Okay," Tom said, meeting Dean's eyes. Sam saw a look of understanding pass between the two. "I'll be back in about forty-five minutes. You should try and get some sleep," he said to Sam._

"_He will. Thanks again," Dean answered for both of them. _

"_I know I'm really sick, Dean," Sam said when Tom left. _

"_Sammy…"_

"_I know how bad it is…I know what's going to happen. It's okay."_

"_No," Dean growled. "It is not okay." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Sammy. Let's watch some TV, okay? Maybe the Simpsons are on."_

"_Sure, Dean." Sam leaned back in the bed. Dean put his hand over Sam's and started flipping through the channels. _

Sam sighed and shifted again. He could hear Dean and their father talking, the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted into the room. He'd need to call Dean in a minute, he just wanted to wait a little longer before the much hated IV bag was hooked up to his arm again. It was bad enough that the IV was in his arm—even without the bag, but the tubes made it hard to turn over. _And face it, it's a reminder of what's happening. _Tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was just dying that made him so sad, or the fact that he'd be alone—Dean couldn't be with him after he died—that made it so hard.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered from the door.

"I'm awake." He struggled into a sitting position, wiping the tears from his eyes. Before he got very far, Dean's hand was behind his back, helping him up and sliding a pillow behind Sam. "Thanks."

"I brought you some coffee," Dean said, picking up the mug from the bedside table and handing it to Sam.

"Did dad make you put milk in it?"

"He tried." Dean chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. "Be careful, it's hot."

"I need to enjoy it before…" Sam broke off and looked with horror at this brother. _Oh, Dean, I'm sorry. How do I fix this?_

"Before what, Sammy?" Dean asked carefully. When Sam hesitated, his brother gave his leg a gentle shake. "Sammy?"

Something he'd heard in the hospital suddenly came to mind. "Charlie…" Sam began, pausing to take a sip of the coffee.

"The boy who was brought in before you? I talked to his father the day he stopped walking."

"Yeah, I know, he told me. But his tongue swelled all up, Dean. He could still breathe on his own, but he couldn't talk or swallow very well." Sam took another sip of the coffee. It was hot and made his chest hurt a little. He was watching his brother. The emotions were playing across Dean's face as he struggled to keep control.

"No one mentioned that," Dean said, looking at him, a desperate fear in his eyes. "Do you want to take a shower before I hook you up?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be nice. I didn't really get to take one in the hospital."

"I know, dude. I can tell. You stink."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Not not not."

"So so so."

"I do not!" Sam gave Dean a shove, his brother dropped off the bed with a laugh. Sam smiled. _As long as he's still teasing me and playing along, it's going to be okay. _He took another sip of the coffee and put it on the table. Dean helped him into the bathroom. His brother kept a hand on Sam's arm, offering support but letting him walk as much as possible. _My legs aren't as strong as they were even a hour ago. _Dean dropped some clean clothes on the sink, turned the shower on and left. Sam noticed Dean didn't close the door all the way, and he could see his brother's shadow hovering outside the door.

The warm water felt good. Sam let it pound against his sore back, being very careful to keep his arm with the IV dry. He'd wrapped in a bag before he got in, but he was still careful with it. The thought of having to go back and get another one was a little hard to bear. Sam leaned against the wall of the shower, his legs felt weird all of a sudden. He turned the water off, stepped out, toweled off and got dressed before his legs finally gave way.

**XXX**

Dean waited until he heard Sam step into the shower before walking quickly to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. He had a funny feeling he'd be needing caffeine. Dean had no intention of sleeping if he could avoid it. Sam needed him, sleep could wait. He went into their room and put a pushpin in the wall over the bed to use as an IV pole for Sam. After straightening the bed, he walked back to the bathroom and his post outside the door. _Sam doesn't have long before the symptoms start getting a lot worse. The other kids went downhill fast in the last twenty-four hours. _

Dean sighed. They were coming up against wall after wall on this case. Their father was stumped, every hunter they'd called was stumped. It seemed so easy at first, the age range was so specific—they'd thought it was a shtriga. _Of course we're both a little obsessed with them, it looked good—at first. _Once John had started digging, however, that possibility disappeared. It wasn't a shtriga, nothing fit except the age range. Dean could hear his father speaking on the phone with someone, from the amount of profanity scattered through the conversation, he figured it had to be Bobby and not Pastor Jim. He turned his head, trying to catch more of the discussion. A thump from the bathroom pulled his attention back.

"Sammy?" Dean resisted the urge to race into the room. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" There was definitely something wrong. Dean could hear it in his brother's voice. He pushed to door open. Sam was sprawled on the floor.

Dean took a breath to steady his voice and smiled. "You fall over that crack in the floor?"

"It didn't play fair, it reached up and grabbed me when I turned around." He twisted his head so he could smile at Dean.

"I told you to watch out for it," Dean said. "Want a hand in case it tries to attack again?" Dean rubbed a trembling hand against his leg. _Oh god, Sammy. It's happening so fast. How do I stop this?_

"Yeah, thanks." Sam pushed himself up a little. Dean slid his hands under his brother's arms and lifted Sam to his feet. Sam's legs gave out as soon as he put weight on them. Dean caught Sam and picked him up in one motion. "Sorry," Sam mumbled.

"Well you should be, letting that crack sneak up on you like that." Dean carried Sam into the bedroom. "Can you pull the blankets back?" Dean bent his knees enough for Sam to reach the bed. His brother flipped back the blankets and Dean gently deposited him on the bed. "We need to get you all hooked up." He straightened the blankets, using the activity to cover how badly his hand were shaking and grabbed the IV bag he'd left out when he put the others in the 'fridge.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said, pulling the arm with the line in it out from under the covers. "Stupid IV. Do you remember what Tom showed you?"

"He showed me something?" Dean pulled out the syringes he needed to prep the line. "Was he supposed to?"

"Funny. I was there, you know."

"Was that you? I thought it was some other kid," Dean said, finishing up. He hung the bag from the pin in the wall. "All done."

"You do that better than Tom," Sam said, smiling at him. "My coffee is cold."

"I'll get you a little more." Dean picked up the cup and carried it into the kitchen. His father was staring at the table, his hand resting on the phone. "Dad?"

"Nothing," John answered the unasked question. "How's your brother?"

"He's out of the shower, all hooked up and complaining his coffee is cold," Dean said, smiling at his father.

"Good."

"Dad…" _How do I tell him? _Dean took a deep breath. "He fell in the bathroom. His legs won't take his weight anymore."

"Oh god," John said, his voice breaking into something very much like a sob. "It's happening so fast."

"He said Charlie Firkins' tongue swelled up."

"Yeah, I heard that." John ran a hand over his face.

"You knew?" Dean ground his teeth together. "And you didn't tell me? Why?"

"I…" John looked at the table. "I…"

"Dad, answer me!" Dean demanded.

"I wasn't sure if it was related to this. The hospital thought it might have been an allergic reaction to the medication or something."

"Yeah, not good enough. I need to know. I have to take care of Sammy and I need to know what to expect, dad."

"Yeah."

"Anything else you left out?"

"No." John sighed. "Dean…You… Sammy…"

"I need take him his coffee." Dean picked up the cup and turned his back on his father. "If you hear anything, I'll be sitting with Sammy."

"Dean, I'm sorry," John said quietly. Dean turned back to his father and gave John's shoulder a squeeze.

"Yeah, dad. Me too." Dean walked quickly down the hall. His brother had the TV on and was flipping through the channels. He stopped on a documentary, the narrator's voice droning on about the historical representations of demons. "Oh hell no, Sammy," Dean said, walking into the room. "It's almost time for 'Cooking with Nick'."

Sam's eyebrows climbed into his hair. "What? 'Cooking with Nick', Dean? Cooking?"

"It's not like that at all, Sammy." Dean handed Sam the cup of coffee and sat on the other bed. "He fixes cars and cooks real food. Those nachos I made the other night were from his recipe."

"You're going to watch a cooking show?" Sam grinned at him.

"It's a cool, no chicks cooking show, Sammy." Dean grabbed the remote and flipped to channel nine. "You'll like it."

"I'm missing the history of demons for a cooking show?" Sam persisted.

"You're missing a boring documentary for a cool show," Dean shot back. He shifted so he could lean back against the bed, but still kept an eye on his brother. About halfway through the show he noticed Sam was squirming a little. "Sammy?"

"You were right, this show is kinda cool." Sam looked over at him and smiled. Dean got off his bed and sat on the edge of Sam's. "What?" Sam said.

"Dean, I need to see you," John said from the door.

"I'll be right back." He patted Sam's leg and followed his father into the kitchen. "I need to get back to Sammy, dad, what is it?"

"There was an attack outside of town. A jogger was ripped to pieces by a wild animal."

Dean shrugged. "It was probably a feral dog. There was a report on the news about packs of pitbulls in the area. What's it got to do with us?"

"That's what I thought when I first heard it on the scanner." John looked at him. "But another call just came in—they caught someone who claims he did it."

"I thought you said it was a wild animal?"

"I did—they did." John's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"And?" _Sometimes getting information out of you is harder than getting Sammy to stop asking questions. _"I still don't know what it has to do with…"

"The guy claims he's a werewolf," John said, interrupting him.

"Werewolf?" Dean looked at his father. _What does that have to do with Sammy? _

"Yeah, a werewolf. I'm going to check it out."

"Dad…"

"I don't know what it means, but in a town already suffering from a supernatural plague, suddenly there's a werewolf? I might mean something."

"It might not, dad."

"I need to check it out, Dean." John picked up his coat, rattling his keys in his hand.

"Okay, we'll be fine." _He needs to go, he needs to do something, anything that might help. _"Let us know."

"I will." John walked out the door, a moment later Dean heard the truck roar to life.

"What's going on?" Sam asked when Dean walked into the room.

"Dad's chasing a werewolf."

"A werewolf?" Sam frowned. "You're kidding."

"Nope. The cops caught some guy and he claims he's a werewolf." Dean sat back on Sam's bed. "Do you need something for pain?"

"I'm okay, Dean."

"Sammy," Dean said, putting his hand on Sam's arm. He could feel tension in his brother's muscles. "It's okay to use them and it's okay to ask for them. It doesn't mean you're weak."

"I'm okay," Sam repeated.

"Remember what Tom said?" _When you were refusing to take anything in the hospital and I wanted to strangle you?_

"About what?"

"I'm going to kill you in a minute, Sammy. About the pain meds. About how your body can't heal itself if you're in pain."

"I do need something." Sam looked at him. "But, I'm not going to heal, Dean."

"Don't say that. Here." Dean handed Sam a couple of pills. "Don't be afraid to ask for them, okay?"

"Okay, Dean," Sam said, taking the pills with a little coffee. Tears had pooled in Sam's eyes and spilled over to run down his cheeks. "I'm not going to heal, Dean," he repeated, his voice breaking.

"Sammy…" _Ah, Sammy…_

"I'm dying, Dean."

"No." Tears were suddenly in Dean's eyes, burning like acid. _No, no, no._

"Probably tomorrow. This is our last day together."

"No… No, Sammy, it's not." The tears had burned tracks down Dean's face.

"I don't want to, Dean. Please." Dean reached out and pulled his brother against him, tucking the top of Sam's head under his chin. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and leaned against him, sobs tearing out of him. "I don't want to die."

"I won't let you, Sammy. I won't." Dean let himself cry with his brother.

_What do I do? How do I fix this? Please, please, I have to fix this._

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

**De Miraculis Sui Temporis**

**Chapter Three**

There was very little traffic as John drove through town to the site of the "animal attack." He regretted leaving Dean to care for Sam, regretted leaving his boys alone as one of his sons was dying, but he needed to do something, anything, that might save Sam. John sighed, hoping it was a werewolf, hoping it meant something. He doubted it. _Plagues and werewolves don't seem to go together. _

He stopped the truck by a ring of police cars, dug out an ID badge from the glove box and hopped out. John nodded to the patrolmen at the edge of the police tape and slipped under. He walked to the scene, the body was still there. Without waiting for permission, he bent over the body and pulled back the tarp covering it. _Nice. _The body had been torn to shreds, what looked like claw marks ran across the chest and throat, teeth marks were on the legs and arms.

"Sick bastard," a bass voice said from beside John. He stood up and looked at the police sergeant standing next to him.

"What happened?" John asked, pulling a notepad out of his pocket.

"A jogger found the body, called and waited for us. When we got here, this nut-job claimed he hadn't found the body—he'd done it. He said, get this," the man paused for effect. "He said he was a werewolf."

"Werewolf?" John raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Yeah, my partner, Orv, asked him about it. You know, like he believed him, pointing out the moon wasn't full and he still looked human."

"What did the guy say?"

"He still insists he's a werewolf, but his fur is on the inside." The big cop laughed.

"What?"

"You heard me. You can talk to him if you want, he's over with Orv." He pointed at a uniformed officer leaning against a patrol car. John nodded at the big cop and headed over.

"Orv?" he said as he approached. The cop pushed himself off the car. "Can I ask the—uh—werewolf..." John grinned. "A couple of questions?" The cop opened the car door with an answering grin.

"Sure. He's nuts, by the way."

"Yeah." John leaned in the door, looking at the thin man sitting on the seat. "You're the werewolf?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me about it."

"What's to tell, man? I'm a werewolf. I killed someone." The man swallowed.

"What happened?" John squatted down and put a hand on the man's leg.

"I was out jogging, my daily run, you know? And I saw someone ahead of me, walking on the side of the path. Next thing I know, I wake up next to the body."

"Woke up? You were on the ground?"

"No, it was like I'd been sleepwalking. One minute I saw this person, the next I was standing over the body. I called the cops. While I was waiting for them, I realized I'd done it and I was a werewolf."

"You just realized that? Out of the blue?"

"Yeah and no one could tell because my fur is on the inside." The man was shaking. "I'm a monster. I should have run and let the cops kill me." He held out his hands. "Look, my hands are covered in blood." John looked at the man's hands. His nails weren't broken, and it didn't look like there was anything but blood under the man's fingernails.

"We've got another call," Orv said. "Someone else attacked down the trail."

"What?" John stood.

"Yeah, another nut-job claiming he's an inside-out werewolf, believe it or not."

"Where?"

"About a mile down the trail, we're headed down there now."

"I'll follow you," John said. He walked back to his truck. _Another werewolf attack? You've got to be kidding. What's going on?_ He wondered if he should head back to the motel to check on the boys. _No, this might mean something, and Sam's in good hands. _John sighed, he wished his younger son was as attached to him as he was to his older brother.

**XXX**

The TV was on, Dean was ignoring it, his whole focus was taken up by Sam, still crying softly in his arms. Dean's jaw was beginning to ache. He had it tightly clenched to prevent his own tears from becoming sobs and distressing his brother. Sam's quiet words—that this was their last day together—kept playing in Dean's head and when the words appeared, his throat seized up and he had to fight the urge to cling to his brother.

"Can I have a tissue?" Sam said quietly.

"Sure." Dean pulled away and grabbed the tissue box.

"Thanks." Sam blew his nose.

"Be careful you don't blow out your brain," Dean said smiling.

"You know, I used to believe that?" Sam smiled at him. "And that when I had a cold, it was my brains trying to escape."

"It always made you laugh." Dean held the garbage can up so Sam could toss the crumpled tissue in.

"Yeah. Can I have a little more coffee?" When Dean hesitated, Sam hit him with "the look," the one guaranteed to get Dean to do his bidding no matter what. _When he gets older that look will score hundreds of women for him. _ "Please, Dean?" Sam added a tiny whine to the question.

"Fine." Dean stood up and frowned at his brother. Sam laughed at him. "I'll be right back." Dean picked up Sam's mug and walked into the kitchen. The coffee had been on the hotplate too long, so Dean threw it out and started another pot brewing. "I need to make more, Sam, I'll be right back," he called from the kitchen door.

"Okay."

Dean leaned against the counter and scrubbed a hand across his face. _I wonder if Sam asked for coffee to give me a minute? _His brother had an uncanny ability to sense Dean's moods and seemed to know when Dean needed a little space. His brother's desperate plea had been almost more than he could bear. _Dying is not an option for Sammy, not ever. What can I do?_ Dean jumped when the phone started ringing.

"Dean? That you?" Bobby's gruff voice demanded when he answered. "Where's John?"

"He's out after a werewolf," Dean said.

"A werewolf?" Bobby asked.

"Yep. Dad said there was an attack outside of town, and the cops caught someone who claimed he was a werewolf."

"Werewolves and plagues…" Bobby trailed off, Dean could picture his face as he thought about it. "I found something… The pattern, the ages, I wonder if we're dealing with the Pied Piper."

"The what?" Dean asked, trying to choke back a laugh. "Well, now that you mention it, there aren't many rats around."

"There's a lot of evidence that the Pied Piper was actually a demon, one that enjoyed taking children," Bobby growled back.

"The Pied Piper, Bobby?"

"I don't know, Dean. I'm grasping at straws, but this is something. The pattern fits."

"Sorry," Dean said quietly. He knew the older hunter was as worried about what was happening as their father.

"It's okay. How's Sam?"

"We brought him home," Dean said, hearing his voice break. "Dad thinks…" Dean cleared his throat.

"We won't let anything happen, Dean. You hear me?"

"Yeah. I'll leave a note for dad. I think I'm going to take Sammy out for a drive."

"Are you sure that's safe? I mean for Sam?"

"What's it going to do? Kill him?" Dean stopped himself. "Sorry, Bobby. It's hard just sitting here, hard on him. There's a farm down the road from here that has a fruit stand he likes."

"Yeah, you're right, I'll see you boys sometime tonight."

"Tonight? What?"

"I can't just sit on my ass and do research, Dean. I have to do more help," Bobby said firmly. "I'll be there."

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean hung up and dialed the shop where he worked. "Hey Rod, it's Dean," he said when his boss answered.

"How's your brother?"

"I want to take him out for a drive. I think getting out will help."

"That's a good idea. When Zevvie, my son, was ill, I kept him busy. When you sit around, your mind can play games," Rod said gently.

"Yeah. Is there any way to get the Impala running today?" Dean asked, knowing it was hopeless. _I left half her engine piled beside her yesterday. _

"I don't think so," Rod said. Dean sighed. "I'll find something else, though, Dean. Joe and I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

"Rod…"

"Dean, I understand. I lost my son when he was Sam's age. I'll do anything I can to help. So just say thank you, sir. Okay?"

Dean grinned at the man's tone. "Thank you, sir."

"That's better. I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks, Rod." Dean picked up a pen and jotted out a note for his father. _"Dad, Bobby called. He's on his way. He thinks it's the Pied Piper. I'm taking Sammy for a ride. Back in a couple of hours. Dean." _He poured Sam a little coffee, turned the pot off and headed back to their room.

"I'm glad you're back," Sam said, looking up at him in distress.

"Sammy? What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Dean nearly dropped the cup in his haste to get to his brother.

"Sorta. I got to go," Sam said with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, okay." Dean disconnected the nearly empty IV bag and picked Sam up. He carried his brother into the bathroom. "You need help?" Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll be right outside." Dean left the door slightly ajar. He walked into their room and grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for Sam. He stuck his arm through the door and dropped the clothes on the sink. "Put those on."

"But I just changed."

"If you want to go out in your PJs that's fine with me."

"Out?" Sam's voice was excited.

"Yeah, I thought it would be fun to take a ride. There's nothing on TV until later, anyway."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." Dean turned his head when he heard a car pull up outside. "That's probably Rod now. Do you need help?"

"I need a minute more, Dean," Sam said sourly.

"Gotcha." Dean opened the door as Rod raised his hand to knock. "Hi." He looked out into the lot. "Is Joe bringing the car?"

"He's picking me up, he was right behind me, but there was some excitement downtown. The cops had the intersection at Oak Street closed down." Rod smiled and held out a set of keys "Here."

"Rod, I can't," Dean said, looking from Rod to the car and back.

"Your brother likes the car, doesn't he?" Rod smiled. "I assumed as much when he was silent for fifteen minutes while he sat in it."

"Oh yeah, he likes it," Dean assured him. "He actually might be in love." Dean laughed, remembering his brother's long and rapturous descriptions of Rod's 1959 Lotus Elite. "I think it's the first car he's really loved."

"Then take it." Rod jangled the keys at Dean.

"Rod…"

"Dean," Rod said gently, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I spent the last few weeks of my son's life trying to do everything I never had a chance to do with him. Don't let that happen here."

"Sammy's not dying."

"I understand. He'll enjoy this, though, right?" Rod waited until Dean nodded. "Then go. If nothing else, it's something to remember when you both get older." Dean still hesitated. "Let me do this for you, Dean."

"Thank you," Dean said, taking the keys. "I'll be careful."

"There's a stretch of road south of town that I use sometimes when I'm getting ready for a rally. If they see the car, the cops don't usually stop me." Rod grinned. "Just remember she's a lot lighter than the Impala and she turns a little fast. There's a shimmy up around one-twenty, so be careful." Rod turned when a large truck rumbled into the lot. "There's Joe. Don't worry about getting the car back to me tonight. Keep it as long as you need. I'll see you back in the shop."

"Rod." Dean stopped and cleared his throat. He nodded at the older man, unable to get the words out. Rod smiled and hopped into the waiting truck.

Dean looked at the keys for a long moment. He was often surprised at the generosity of people. Sam still trusted the world, even knowing about what was out there. Dean never had. _It's one of the reasons I need him. Rod's right, if this is our last day…No. Sammy dying is not an option, this is just a distraction for him. _

"Dean?" Sam called.

"Yeah?" Dean scrubbed the tears out of his eyes and walked down the hall. "You about ready?"

"Yeah, I just need a hand getting the sweats up." Sam smiled. Dean lifted his brother and carefully pulled up the pants before picking him up. Dean carried Sam into the bedroom, leaning down by the nightstand. "What?" Sam asked.

"Grab your pills." Sam did as he was told and Dean carried him into the kitchen. Sam retrieved a couple of cokes from the fridge before Dean carried him to the door. "I have a surprise, Sammy. Can you open the door for me?" Sam turned the knob and looked eagerly into the lot.

"Dean, is that…?" he said with a quiet gasp.

"Yep."

"We get to ride in it?" Sam whispered as Dean carried him to the small car.

"Yep. Rod even told me where we could go to drive it a little too fast." Dean gently deposited his brother in the car. He walked around and dropped into the driver's seat, sneaking a look across at Sam. His brother's eyes were wide and he had a smile on his face. _He's just had the IV, I think we're okay for a drive without worrying about it. _Dean turned the car on, listening to the purr of the engine.

"Sweet," Sam said breathlessly.

"Oh, hell yeah." Dean pulled out. The small car handled like a dream. Light, fast, responsive. He grinned as he heard Sam laugh. They ran through town and down the two lane highway that ran south out of the inhabited area. Dean spied the road Rod had been talking about. He turned onto it and looked over at his brother. "Ready?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Sam said, imitating Dean.

Dean began accelerating slowly, still getting the feel of the car. Sam reached over and turned the radio on. Rod had similar tastes to Dean and Black Sabbath blasted out of the speakers. Dean smiled at his brother, Sam grinned back, rolling down the window so wind was whipping through the car as they sped up. By the time they were two miles down the road, Dean had discovered the shimmy in the car. Sam was laughing almost non-stop as trees flashed by so fast Sam couldn't count them.

The end of the thirty mile stretch of road came quicker than Dean thought it would. He pulled into the large turn around for a scenic over-look and glanced as Sam. His brother's hair was ruffled from the window, he was still smiling but Dean noticed a tightness at the corner of Sam's mouth. Without saying anything he pulled the cokes out from under his seat, opened one and handed it to Sam. Before opening his, he dug Sam's pills out of his pocket and handed one to his brother. "Remember to ask, Sammy," he said gently.

"I was going to when we got here. I didn't want to stop before we got here," Sam answered, taking the pill.

"Good." Dean smiled. "Should we go to the fruit stand next?"

"The one with…" Sam's eyes got wide again. "The llamas?"

"Is there another one?" Dean grinned and put the car in gear. "You think that shimmy disappears?"

"It might if you went a little faster," Sam said with a smile. "Maybe we should check that out for him."

"Oh, yeah!" Dean slammed the accelerator down, gravel sprayed out from under the wheels and they shot down the highway. A cross breeze caught them and pushed them across the road. Dean corrected for the wind and they were off again, the small car racing down the road as fast as he could safely control it. Sam was laughing happily again by the time they reached the highway. Dean slowed down and headed towards the fruit stand. "It feels like we're crawling doesn't it?"

"It does!" Sam agreed.

"We're going sixty miles an hour."

"It still feels slow," Sam said with a grin. "Can we do that on the way back?" he asked wistfully.

"Of course. I don't think the car would let us do anything different, do you?"

"Nope." Sam looked out the window. "The buffalo are running around!" Sam said with a laugh. Dean slowed the car so his brother could watch the large animals playing in the field. A semi went around them, the slipstream buffeted the car as the truck went by. Sam chuckled as the car rocked. "There's the fruit stand, Dean."

"Yep. Should we stop?"

"They have cherries," Sam said, reading the sign. "And berries."

Dean pulled the car into the small parking area, noticing the admiring glances of several men standing around the cash register. "Ready?" he asked, opening Sam's door. "I'm going to lift you, then pick you up, okay?"

"Sure, Dean," Sam said, swinging his legs out of the car. Dean pulled him gently to his feet before picking him up. Sam pushed the car door closed and they walked into the stand. "Pick out what you want."

"Really?" Sam smiled. "Cherries, and look, there's raspberries. Let's get some of those."

"You grab them." Dean stopped by the tables and Sam picked up the items he wanted. "Can my brother use the stool?" Dean asked as they reached the cash register.

"Of course, son," the man behind the counter said with a smile. "I've seen you two here before."

"Yeah, we came out and got strawberries a little while ago," Sam said as Dean put him on the stool. "They were awesome."

"Thanks, we grow them here, you know. All organic, too."

"Cool," Sam said, nudging Dean. "Look." Dean followed his brother's glance. A large brown llama was staring in the back of the stand, his banana shaped ears up and alert.

He smiled at Sam. "Would you like to meet Ziggy?"

"Ziggy?" Sam asked.

"The llama. He likes visitors."

"Can I? Dean?"

"Of course," Dean said, picking Sam up and following the man through the stand. As they got closer the llama started prancing, flopping his long neck and making snorting sounds.

"He likes you," the man said. "Ziggy, would you calm down and come over here to say hello."

Dean carried Sam to the fence. The llama came over and leaned over the boards towards Sam. The animal whuffed into Sam's face, then reached over the fence and pulled at Sam's hair with his prehensile lips.

"Hey, would you like a ride?"

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

"Think you can hang on?" Dean asked. He looked at Sam as his brother thought about it.

"He's very gentle," the man offered.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam said, looking at Dean.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean carried his brother to the gate. The man opened it. Ziggy waited patiently, making soft humming sounds as Dean lifted his brother onto the animal's back. The large animal held perfectly still as Sam wrapped his arms around the long neck, then Ziggy stepped away, pacing along the fence line. Sam was laughing, the joyful expression on his face making him look much younger. Dean watched them, trying to keep the tears in his eyes. _You hear me? No tears, not now. Don't ruin Sammy's day. You hear me?_

"What happened?" the man asked gently. "I don't remember you carrying him last time."

"He's not well," Dean said, his throat aching. _Stupid tears._

"You mean like the other kids in town?"

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. Our neighbors are the Firkins. They lost little Charlie the other day."

"Yeah, Sammy met him in the hospital," Dean said, never taking his eyes from his brother and the llama.

"I'm sorry," the man repeated.

"Yeah."

"He's so soft!" Sam said as he and Ziggy went past. "He doesn't smell weird, either. I hope Rod doesn't mind a little llama fur in the car."

"He won't, Sammy. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay right now, Dean. I'll let you know." Sam smiled when Ziggy took off at a slow trot. "Be back!"

The man wandered back into the stand to wait on customers. Dean leaned on the fence and watched Sam. The tears were still there, the ache in his throat making it hard to breathe. _Rod's right, even if…Not happening, it's not an option. But this is worth it, just the look on his face. _His brother and the llama were heading back, Dean ran a hand across his face, surprised when it came away wet. _Sammy's coming back, you tears stay in there now. _The llama stopped by Dean. Sam leaned down and Dean swung his brother off the large animal. Ziggy turned and nibbled at Dean's hair with his lips, blew into Sam's face and walked towards a pile of hay.

"That was so cool," Sam said. "Can we get our fruit now?"

"Sure." Dean carried his brother back into the store. When he tried to pay for Sam's cherries and raspberries, the man waved Dean's money away with a smile. "Thanks," Dean said.

"Anytime," the man said. "You two come back and visit Ziggy again soon."

"I might not be able to, but thanks," Sam said solemnly.

"We'll be back in a few days," Dean said firmly and turned to the car.

"We won't be back, Dean. You might, but not me."

"No, Sammy. Not an option. We'll be back, you'll see." Dean dropped Sam into the passenger seat of the Lotus.

"You really believe that, don't you?" Sam asked as he got into the car. Dean looked over at his brother, Sam had tears on his face. _Ah, Sammy. _

"Yeah, I do. I'll find a way, Sammy."

"I know you'll try, Dean. I do." Sam put his hand on Dean's arm. "But if you can't…" Sam stopped.

"Sammy?"

"I was thinking about it while I was riding Ziggy. I was watching you, Dean. If you can't stop this, I need you to promise me something."

"What?" Dean asked, his heart pounding.

"Promise me you'll stay with dad."

"What? What do you mean?" Dean turned the car on and pulled onto the highway, willing Sam to stop speaking.

"You promised me I'd never be alone, Dean. But I want you to stay with dad."

"Where else would I go, Sammy?"

"With me."

"Sammy…" Dean stared out the windshield. _How does he know? _

"Promise me," Sam insisted.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I can't."

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry the update was a little slow on this one. And I will have updates on In Darkness and Book of the Dead very soon. Real life has been a little insane. But I wanted to post something today to celebrate a little before I drank myself into a birthday celebration haze!_

**De Miraculis Sui Temporis**

**Chapter Four**

When John pulled up at the motel, the first thing he noticed was the Lotus parked in front of their door, and next to it, Bobby's car. He stepped wearily from his truck. He'd questioned both "werewolves" with little success. John suspected a spell of some kind. They both reported seeing someone walking down the trail right before they found a body. They both said that as they looked at the body they "knew" they'd done it. John sighed, at a loss. Then, on the way back, most of downtown was closed off—the police were chasing a "monster." John joined the hunt and even caught a glimpse of the thing, child-size with horns sprouting from its head. _And what the hell does all that mean?_

"Boys, I'm back," he called as he opened the door. John had learned the hard way that surprising his eldest was not a good idea.

"Hey," Dean answered him. "We're in the bedroom." John tossed his things on the table and walked down the hallway.

"The Pied Piper?" Sam said, his voice sounded odd to John.

"You've asked me that five times, Sam. Yeah. The Pied Piper," Bobby replied.

"It's what he told me on the phone," Dean added, smiling at John as he entered the room.

"John." Bobby stood. "I was telling the boys that I think it's the Pied Piper. Everything fits."

"Everything except the two werewolves and the kid with horns," John said. He looked at Sam, his son was propped up on the bed, the IV hooked up and a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He could tell Sam was in pain, there was a tightness around his mouth and his skin was paler that usual. Dean was perched on the bed beside his brother. "How're you doing?"

"I'm okay, dad," Sam said, the odd note in his voice.

"What's wrong?" John frowned at Dean.

"My tongue's swelling," Sam said quietly.

"How long has that been going on?" John demanded, glaring at Dean.

"About an hour, no more, sir," Dean answered defensively.

"What did you say about werewolves?" Bobby asked.

"What?" John looked at the other hunter. He wondered if Bobby broke in because he sensed what he termed "a Winchester moment," which, according to Bobby, involved shouting, gestures, slamming of doors and occasional breakage of dishes and furniture. John rolled his neck to relieve the tension. "Yeah. There are two people claiming to be werewolves."

"Two?" Bobby said.

"In broad daylight?" Dean added. "Moon phase is a little wrong, isn't it?"

"And—here's the best part—they claim they are still in their wolf form, only their fur is on the inside." John scrubbed his hands across his face. _Sam doesn't look good. How do I stop this Mary? _

"They said what?" Dean laughed.

"That their fur was in the inside. They both said they saw someone walking on the path ahead of them. Then, on the way back, I ended up helping the cops chase a kid with horns."

"Werewolves with inside-out fur and kids with horns?" Bobby muttered. "What's this got to do with the plague affecting the children?"

"I don't know. It seems like too big of a coincidence to not be related somehow," John said.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Can you get my book bag?"

"Sure." Dean stood. "Be right back."

John looked at Bobby. "You got any ideas?"

"I thought it was the Pied Piper."

"The Pied Piper, Bobby?" John growled, raising his eyebrows.

"It all fit, John, the age range and all. You know as well as I do that he was probably a demon," Bobby growled back.

"I know, but nothing else fits." John watched as Dean dropped Sam's bag on the bed and Sam dug through it, pulled out several books and started flipping through them. "If it were just the kids, but…"

"I know." Bobby frowned. "Werewolves? Are you sure, John?"

"I'm sure they're not werewolves, but they're convinced they are."

"Did you hear them talking the other night, Dean? About the nurse who claimed she was seduced by a devil?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, Amy, the day nurse from the second floor," Dean answered.

"What are you two talking about?" John snapped, looking at Sam. Dean unconsciously moved so he was a little in front of his brother.

"Just a sec, dad" Sam mumbled, still turning pages. A book dropped off his lap. Dean grabbed it and shifted so he could hold the books while Sam flipped through them.

"Sam? What's up?" Bobby looked at John, then over at the boys. John shrugged, and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh.

"Werewolves with their fur on the inside?" Sam flipped another page. "Child with horns?" He reached for another book. Dean handed it to him and held it open. "Gimme another minute, okay?" Sam looked up at John and smiled. "Dean, can you get the book off the desk?"

Dean got up and walked to the small desk in the corner of the room. "Which one, Sammy?"

"The one by Sabine Baring Gould," Sam said, still flipping through pages.

"Sam? What's going on?" John asked, keeping his voice carefully calm. Dean looked up at him and frowned.

"Let him finish," Dean said, his voice calm but John could hear anger simmering under the calm. _He listens to me, he obeys me, unless it has to do with Sam. Then, well then, it's Sam first. I might have drilled that into his head a little too thoroughly._

"What are you looking for, Sam?" John asked. Dean's frown deepened.

"All this sounds familiar," Sam said without taking his eyes off the books. He turned another page. "Dean, look at this." He pointed to something in the large book. Dean looked down, skimming his finger over the page.

"Huh." Dean picked up another book. "Why do you have all these?"

"Boys?" John asked.

"It's for a report I'm doing on the Middle Ages." Sam reached for another book.

"And you remembered this? You're such a geek." Dean moved closer to his brother so he could look at the book Sam had in his hands.

"Boys?" John said again.

"Yeah, sorta." Sam sighed, his face paled a little. "Dean?" he whispered.

"Sorta? What do you mean?" Dean was frowning. John watched as his eldest slipped an arm behind Sam and shifted him so he was leaning on Dean. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks, Dean." He smiled at his brother. "I remembered it, but it didn't make sense, you know?"

"Boys? Hello?" John raised his voice a little. He glanced at Bobby, the other hunter shrugged.

"What didn't?" Dean asked.

"Well, everything. Until Bobby brought up the Pied Piper and dad mentioned the werewolves."

"Boys?" John increased the volume of the question again.

"It's like we're not here," Bobby said with a smile.

"And all that makes sense?" Dean looked at his brother.

"Yeah, all the parts do, Dean. Especially when you throw in Amy-the-nurse." Sam pushed the books away.

"Especially with Amy?" Dean asked. "How, Sam?"

"Boys?"

"It's all here," Sam said.

"What is?" Dean asked.

"BOYS!" John shouted, his sons looked up at him. "What's going on?" Dean frowned at him.

"Well…" Sam hesitated, looking at Dean.

"Go ahead, Sammy." Dean smiled.

"What do you mean it's all here, Sam?" Bobby asked.

"The Pied Piper, werewolves, a child with horns, a woman seduced by a 'devil'. It's all here." Sam pointed at a book. "It was the werewolves that got me thinking."

"Why?" John said.

"Well, when you said the werewolves claimed their fur was on the inside. Listen to this." Sam reached for a book. When he picked it up, it dropped out of his hand. John looked at Sam, his sons hands were shaking. "I need something," Sam said quietly.

"Sure." Dean opened the bottle of pain pills and handed two to Sam, then held the cup of coffee so Sam could drink.

"Thanks," Sam said.

"Listen to what?" Bobby's face reflected concern.

"Oh, here. It's from Baring Gould, he's talking about a series of attacks in the sixteenth century. They caught the man who claimed to have done it."

"What does that have to do with this?" John demanded, his temper fraying.

"The man claimed that he was a werewolf and the only difference between himself and a real wolf was his hair _grew inward._" Sam emphasized the last two words.

"What?" Bobby and John said together.

"There's more. All the rest of it is tied together, too. All of it." Sam's head dropped against Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean said quietly.

"I'm okay," Sam said with a sigh.

"How does it fit?" Bobby asked gently.

"It's all in the same book," Sam said.

"Sam?" John growled. "Just tell us, damn it."

"I did. I am." Sam paused to take a shaky breath. "It's all in a book called _Concerning the Wonders of His Times _by Jobus Fincelius. It was written in the sixteenth century and lists the Pied Piper, the inside-out werewolf, the child with horns and the woman seduced by a devil."

"Really?" John looked at his son.

"Yeah, dad, really." Sam tried to lift his head, it looked like he was struggling, but couldn't manage.

"Good job, Sam," Bobby said.

"Do you think it means something?" John glanced at Bobby.

"I don't know, John, but you just said it couldn't be a coincidence. It must all fit together, somehow."

"What if…" Sam stopped.

"What?" Dean asked his brother.

"What if it's Fincelius?" Sam said.

"You mean the guy who wrote the book?" Dean frowned. "Why?"

"Chaos?" Bobby said.

"And maybe he wanted to brag about it," John added.

"I remember something from Nostradamus…" Bobby trailed off. "I think Sam's right."

"Do you think it's a demon?" Dean said.

"What about the man both 'werewolves' saw on the trail? Could that be what we're looking for? Could that be him?" John said with certainty.

"Yeah, I bet it was," Bobby agreed.

"I'm going to be sick," Sam said suddenly. Dean quickly slid the stop down on the IV, pulled the bag off the wall and swung his brother into his arms. He ran out of the room with Sam.

"He's fading faster than the other kids, Bobby. They didn't start having symptoms like this until the very end," John said.

"Like what, John?"

"I didn't tell Dean, but I suspect he knows. The other children started vomiting blood about ten hours before they died." John put his head in his hands as the sounds of Sam being ill drifted into the room.

"We'll find this thing and kill it, John. We'll save your boys." Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

"What?" John snapped, looking at Bobby.

"You're worried about what Dean might do, I know. I am, too." Bobby shook him gently.

"Dad?" Dean said from the door.

"What? Where's Sam?"

"He wanted a minute. I can hear him." Dean leaned against the doorframe. John could see the weariness and grief in his son's stance. "What are we going to do?"

"Hunt this thing," John said. "Now."

"Dad, you have to stay. Sammy's…" Dean looked away, swallowing. "He's not…No, not an option." The last was said under his breath. "You need to stay."

"I have to hunt it!"

"Dad, Sammy's… You need to stay." Dean clenched his hands.

"If we kill this thing, we can save your brother, Dean," John nearly shouted.

"You don't know that!" Dean shouted back.

"It's a good guess, though," Bobby said, stepping between them. "Let me go."

"You'll need help, Bobby." _I can't just sit here and watch Sam die. Not when I could do something. Mary? Mary, is this the wrong thing? Should I stay? _He locked eyes with his son, feeling the heat of Dean's anger simmer between them. _Please, please understand, Dean. _John could see his son's jaw working. Dean was grinding his teeth. _He might hit me. He has once before in a similar situation. _John braced himself.

"Dean?" the call was barely audible.

"Coming, Sammy." Dean turned away. He was back a minute later, his brother in his arms. Sam was white and trembling. Dean laid him gently in the bed and pulled the covers over him. "I'll get you something to drink, then we can watch some TV."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Can I have something to cover the taste of the blood, Dean? Maybe chocolate milk, extra chocolate-y?" Sam said with a sly smile.

"Yeah, sure. Will you be okay?" Dean put his hand in Sam's forehead.

"If you hurry," Sam said, trying to lift his head from the pillows. Dean grabbed another, lifted Sam and tucked the pillow behind Sam's back. "Thanks."

"I'll be right back, Sammy." Dean brushed past John without a word. John turned to follow him down the hall.

"Maybe you should stay," Bobby said, laying a hand on his arm.

"I have to hunt this thing, Bobby. If something happened to Sam…"

"I'll find it, John."

"I can't sit here and wait. I can't. I have to help, somehow." John felt the words starting to catch in his throat. "How could I…" _How could I face you, Mary, if I let our baby die and did nothing? _

Bobby met his eyes, searching, then nodded. "Okay, let's go. The sooner we go, the sooner…"

"It dies." John finished.

**XXX**

Dean stalked down the hall, resisting the urge to punch his father, the wall, the hall window, the door into the kitchen. _Punching walls is just not that smart. _He grabbed Sam's favorite glass out of the dish rack—an old "Star Wars" promo cup Dean had found in a thrift store. He got the chocolate and milk out, then stopped. _Is milk really a good idea? It's what he asked for. _Dean filled the glass and added more chocolate than usual, then stirred it. "Dad," he acknowledged his father presence in the doorway.

"We're going to hunt this thing," John said quietly. "We'll find it, Dean."

"You'll try," Dean said bitterly. "Sammy needs you here."

"Sam needs to live. This is the only way to make sure of that."

"You don't know if that will save him." Dean turned to face his father. Bobby was standing behind him.

"It's the best we've got." John stepped into the kitchen. "He's dying, Dean."

"Sammy dying is not an option, dad." Dean looked at his father. _How can you not understand that?_

"The only way to stop Sam dying is to stop this thing. You should understand that, Dean." John growled. "We need to hunt it—now that we know who it is."

"You know because of Sammy." Dean could feel his hands shaking. _He's leaving. Sammy's…And he's leaving to hunt. _A deep simmering anger was bubbling against his heart. He rarely acknowledged it, rarely even admitted it was there. Occasionally it caught him, blinding him with a helpless rage that he was unable to express. "You need to stay,"

"We'll be back soon, Dean." His father walked out of the kitchen. Dean was right behind him. He grabbed John and pulled him around. "I need to go." His eyes begged Dean to understand.

"You need to stay." Dean ground his teeth together, unwilling to give way.

"I need to hunt this thing, to kill it. I have to. I can't let your brother die like this. Last time… Dean… It can't be like last time."

"Last time?" Bobby asked.

"A year ago," Dean grated out. "Sammy… "

"What happened? You never mentioned it," Bobby looked from Dean to John.

"We lost Sam," John said quietly. Dean could see fear in his father's eyes—remembered emotion and fear for what was happening.

"Lost? What do you mean, lost?" Bobby was shocked.

"Yeah. Dean found him, I found the thing. It was close, even after we had him safe."

"Yeah," Dean echoed, remembering the silent vigil beside his brother's bed, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, watching his father slowly crumble before his eyes. The anger drained out of him. "Go, dad, kill this thing. If it can save Sammy, it's worth it." He laid a hand on his father's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "I'll keep him safe till you kill it."

"Thank you, son," John said softly, putting his hand over Dean's for a moment.

"We'll call when we can," Bobby said, grabbing his bag off the chair, and opening the door. "John? Where do we start?"

"The trail where the werewolves were." John met Dean's eyes, then turned away. "Let's go."

Dean closed the door behind them. He heard his father's truck roar to life and tear out of the parking lot. Dean leaned against the door for a minute, his heart pounding his hands shaking. _No, I need to keep it together for Sammy. I can…If…No, Sammy's not dying. _He walked with weary steps back to the kitchen to grab the glass of chocolate milk for his brother.

"Dean?"

"Coming, Sammy." Dean headed quickly down the hallway. "I had to get the kids off to work," Dean said with a grin as he entered the room. Sam grinned back. It was a private joke, it always made Sam smile. "Here's your extra chocolate-y milk." Dean sat on the bed and held the glass so Sam could sip. _He's having a hard time. This is going faster than the other kids. Oh, god, no._

"Thanks, Dean." Sam smiled. "Can you…"

"What?"

"Can you turn on the TV? I couldn't press hard… I couldn't make the remote work, maybe the batteries are bad?"

Dean grabbed the remote and opened the back, then put it back together. He punched the button and the TV came on. _He's trying to make it easier on me. He knew he couldn't push the buttons. Ah, Sammy. _"Yep, batteries are going bad. I might have to change them soon."

"Depending on how much flipping you do," Sam said quietly. His voice sounded odd as he tried to speak with his swollen tongue.

"I'm a trained hunter, Sammy. A good show might sneak by us if I don't hunt it down." Dean walked around the bed and sat down beside Sam. He slid his hand behind Sam and pulled his brother up against his shoulder, so he could support Sam.

"Thanks. I was having a hard time staying upright."

"Yeah." Dean swallowed, willing the tears away. "Dad and Bobby will find Fincelius, they'll kill him."

"I know they will, Dean. Maybe not in time for me."

"No, Sammy, in plenty of time." Dean tightened the arm on his brother's shoulders.

"I don' think so. I'm dying." Sam sighed. "Thank you for my day, Dean."

"We'll take the car and go see Ziggy again tomorrow."

"Dean." Sam slowly raised a hand and put it on Dean's chest. "I know I'm in bad shape. Charlie Firkins started vomiting blood a few hours before he died. Even if dad kills Fincelius, it still might be too late. I don't have much time."

"Sammy…"

"And we don't even know if that will stop this. We're not sure."

"Then I'll stop it, Sammy. I'm not going to lose you." _Listen to me, little brother. I won't let you go._

"You can't stop this, Dean. You can't stop death."

"Watch me."

"I can't walk, my tongue's swelling, I…" Sam said reasonably.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Do that logical thing you do, Sammy. It drives me nuts." He pulled Sam closer.

"Yeah, I know. And I always win." Sam chuckled softly. The laugh ending in a coughing fit. Dean held Sam while he hacked, then gently wiped the blood off Sam's face.

"You're not going to win this one, Sammy."

"I think I will." Sam's voice faded to almost nothing.

"Nope," Dean said, hearing the desperation in his voice. He knew Sam heard it. The hand was back on his chest, fisting in his t-shirt. He wrapped his other arm around Sam and held his brother willing some of his strength into Sam. _I won't let you go, Sam. I won't._

Sam's hand relaxed.

"Sammy?" Dean shifted so he could look at his brother. Sam's eyes were closed, his face waxen.

"Can't… Dean…"

Dean picked up Sam's hand and pressed it against his chest, holding it over his heart, somehow hoping the beating of his own would help Sam. "Hang on, Sammy. Please."

"I'll…" Sam took a shuddering breath, "try."

"Please, Sammy."

"Yeah."

Dean let his cheek rest on top of Sam's head. "I'm here. I won't let you go." Dean felt the tension leave his brother. Sam's head was a dead weight on his shoulder. "Sammy?" he whispered.

_Oh, Sam, no.__ Please, no._

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Special thanks to Nana56 for reminding me of the story of what a brother's devotion can do. I'd like to remind TraSan she asked for a little schmoop. _

**De Miraculis Sui Temporis**

**Chapter Five**

The TV stopped on some kind of cop show. Sam could hear the narrator talking about the "death defying crash" as he rested his head against Dean's shoulder. Sam had been trying to talk to his brother about what was happening. Not surprisingly, Dean wasn't listening.

"Nope," Dean said, Sam heard the desperation, the panic and fear in his brother's voice. Sam reached out, twisting his fingers into Dean's shirt, holding on, trying to offer some comfort to his brother. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam, pulling him close. Suddenly, completely against his will, Sam's hand relaxed.

"Sammy?" Dean asked. Sam felt him shift, he knew Dean was looking at him

_Sorry, Dean, I can't hold on, it's too hard. I'm afraid, Dean. _He took a breath to say it all, but what came out was a half sob and "Can't… Dean…"

"Hang on, Sammy. Please." Dean picked up Sam's hand and pressed it against his chest, Sam could feel the beat of his brother's heart under his hand.

"I'll…" Sam took a shuddering breath, "try."

"Please, Sammy," Dean said softly. Sam heard tears in his brother's voice.

"Yeah." _I'll try, because I'm afraid of what you will do. _

Dean's arms tightened and he rested his cheek against the top of Sam's head. "I'm here. I won't let you go." There was such calm assurance in that statement, the fear suddenly left Sam, the pain even got a little less. He felt his body relax against Dean. "Sammy?" Dean whispered.

"Here," Sam said. It was getting hard to talk with his tongue swelling. He could still breathe through his nose, but it was frightening, feeling his tongue growing larger each moment. "Is this a good show?" he asked, trying to distract Dean a little.

"What?"

"You stopped flipping, is the hunt over?"

"The hunt is never over, Sammy," Dean said with a choked laugh. "You want me to move so you can see?"

"Yeah, thanks," Sam said. Dean shifted around until Sam was propped on his brother's shoulder, Dean's arms still around him, but set so he could see the TV. "What's on?"

"Let's see." Dean started flipping through the channels. The hotel subscribed to expanded cable service and Dean had more than one hundred channels to go through before the round started again.

"Hey. Let's watch this," Sam said when Dean stopped for an instant on a documentary about "What the Romans Did for Us." Dean was silent for a count of three. Sam counted it off in his head, waiting for the expected response. He wasn't disappointed.

"Oh, no. No way in hell, Sammy," Dean said, flipping to the next channel.

Sam smiled. As long as Dean was denying him documentaries, he knew it was at least partially okay. That or Dean was in denial, but either way it made Sam feel better. Sam had heard Dean arguing with their father about John leaving. He listened to the angry exchange until his brother had finally given in. John had played the trump card, bringing up the year before when Sam had been lost, taken by a demonic force. _The hunt saved me last time, dad killed it and I came back. He's hoping the same thing will work this time. I think he might be wrong._

John leaving didn't bother Sam nearly as much as it seemed to bother his brother. Dean was there, that was all that mattered in the long run. Sometimes, Sam thought of their father more like a grandfather or uncle. Someone who loved him, cared for him, but wasn't there all the time. The person who was there was Dean. It had always been that way, even before Sam knew what lurked in the dark, Dean was there driving away the horrors of the night. Sam knew they were closer than most brothers. _We're even closer than the twins. _But he didn't think Dean minded much. His brother had told him repeatedly over the last year—after those days when Sam had been gone—that he didn't mind having Sam around.

"What do you think about this?" Dean stopped on a show.

"Oh, no. No way in hell, Dean," Sam said, watching the opening credits of "Spinal Tap" scrolling over the screen.

"Fine," Dean huffed, then chuckled. "Check it out, Sammy, bad sci fi. Whatcha think?"

"What movie is this?" Sam asked, frowning at the TV. Dean was quiet for a minute, watching the movie.

"It's… I think it's 'Monster on Campus.' Oh, yeah, it is, there's the coelacanth."

"Coelacanth, Dean?"

"I know stuff, Sammy." Dean moved around, settling another pillow behind them. "This is a great film. Cavemen, giant dragonflies, all good."

"I doubt it's good," Sam said, suddenly coughing. When the attack passed, Dean wiped his face.

"You just don't know good when you see it."

"Sure," Sam said, leaning back against his brother. It was getting hard to talk, the effort taking everything. "Dean…"

"What do you need, Sam?" Dean asked. "You need another pill?"

"Can I have one?"

"Yeah, it's been long enough." Dean grabbed the pill bottle, dropped the bitter pill in Sam's mouth and held the cup so Sam could take a drink. Sam managed to get a look at his brother's face—Dean's eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Dean, I…"

"I won't let anything happen to you, Sam. I promised, remember?" Dean said firmly. A memory from the year before—Dean finding him, tears on Dean's face as he checked Sam for injuries, drifted into Sam's consciousness. _"I've got you, Sammy. I've got you, I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe. I promise." _It wasn't the first time he'd promised, Sam doubted it would be the last, but it always made him feel safe, wrapped up in a protective force that nothing could breach.

"I know," Sam said, leaning against Dean. "I remember."

**XXX**

The TV was droning in the background, the music indicating a major event in the storyline. Dean sighed. Sam was leaning against him, tiny tremors running through his body. _Oh, god, Sammy. _When he'd given his brother the pain pill, he'd gotten the chance to see just how swollen Sam's tongue was, Dean wasn't sure how his brother was managing to talk at all. _But of course, that's one thing I can always count on, Sammy talking._

"What's happening?" Sam asked quietly, his words slurred.

"The mosquito sucked the coelacanth blood and it's infecting things with it."

"Thought you said this was good."

"It is good." Dean shook his head. "We need to work on your education."

"Yeah, right," Sam said. Dean felt his brother's muscles tensing. He picked Sam up and ran to the bathroom, getting the toilet open before Sam vomited. When Sam was finished, Dean pulled the bloody shirt off his brother and carried him back to bed. "Thanks, Dean."

"I need to get you another shirt." Dean propped pillows behind Sam so his brother could sit up a little.

"Dean?"

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean said, rummaging through Sam's clothes looking for something his brother could wear. _He's growing so fast, nothing fits. _

"Can I…" Sam stopped. Dean looked over at his brother.

"What?" Dean frowned, then smiled as he closed Sam's drawer and opened his own. "Oh." He pulled out his favorite sweatshirt. "This one?" Sam nodded and Dean helped his brother into the too-large shirt. _He always wants it when he's sick. _"Sorry, I should have thought of it sooner," he said, sitting down on the bed and sliding his hand behind Sam, pulling him against his shoulder so he was supported. Sam seemed to breathe a little easier.

"It's okay," Sam mumbled around his swollen tongue. "I'd've just barfed on it."

"Probably." Dean fidgeted, making sure Sam was as comfortable as possible. His brother sighed, Dean reached over and wrapped his other arm around Sam. "It's okay, Sammy. Hey, did I ever tell you…?"

"What?"

"Never chew a wart off your finger."

"You didn't?" Sam chuckled.

"And, you know what? They bleed. A lot. And leave a weird looking hole."

"You did. You actually did it, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Dean said, smiling.

"That's what the Band-Aid on your finger is. Isn't it?"

"Uh…"

"Ew, Dean. Gross." Sam sighed, relaxing. "Just gross."

"Sammy?"

"Sorry, it's getting hard to..." Sam stopped, but Dean heard the unspoken "hang on" in his brother's quiet statement.

"I'm here, Sam. Sleep if you need to, okay?" Dean said. _Oh god, is this the end?_

"No, I don…" Sam stopped.

"Sam?" He gave his brother a little shake.

"Don't want to." Sam took a breath. "It's getting hard to talk."

"Yeah." Dean swallowed the lump tightening his throat. "I know, I can hear it." Dean was silent for a minute. _What do I do? How do I make this easier? _"Did I ever tell you about that time I got separated from you and dad in the Olympic Rainforest?"

"No. You never said." Sam was a dead weight against him, even the small tremors were gone. "You were a bloody mess, too."

"I didn't even realize at first I was lost." Dean shrugged. "Okay, I wasn't lost. Something wanted me to get lost—separated from the two of you."

"What?' Sam mumbled, the word just a sound, but Dean understood.

"I didn't know what it was until…" Dean kept talking, when he finished that story, he started another, and another, always aware of Sam's mutter responses, always aware of how his brother was slowly cooling off, like he was already dead. "Monster on Campus" ended, "It Came From Outer Space" started, the night wore on. Sam had been quiet for more than an hour, not responding to questions. Dean lifted his brother's hand and stuck a fingernail in the palm. Sam's fingers curled a little in response to the pain. Dean took a breath and kept talking.

"No, please. I don't want to," Sam suddenly whispered around three in the morning.

"Sammy?" Dean snapped to wakefulness.

"No, I don't want to go. Please."

"You don't have to go anywhere. I won't let you go. If they want you, they have to come through me to get you." Dean tightened his grip on his brother. "You hear me? If you want him, come for me. I've got you, Sammy," Dean set, resting his cheek on the top of his brother's head. Dean sighed, then started talking again. Every once in awhile adding "I'm here, I've got you" to the story, letting Sam know he wasn't alone. Sometime, just before dawn, exhaustion caught up with him.

Light on his face woke Dean from an uneasy sleep. His neck was aching, his back had a knot in it the size of the Impala. He stayed still for a moment, letting the day form around him. He'd been dreaming, a vague nightmare, Sam screaming his name, being pulled away into the dark by a laughing voice. _What the hell was that all about? _

That thought brought it all crashing back—the illness, the werewolves, the demon. Sam. His brother's body lax and cool against his, the long night, Sam's cries. _Oh, god, Sammy. _Dean shifted, trying not to wake his brother when he realized it was a pillow resting against his shoulder. He opened his eyes.

Sam was gone.

Dean sat up, glancing around the room. "Sammy?" he said, panic blossoming in his chest as his heart began slamming against his ribs. "Sammy?" he called louder, getting off the bed. "Sam?" He heard the toilet flush, a moment later the bathroom door opened. "Sam?" Dean shouted.

"Don't yell, my head hurts," Sam said from the hall.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, his fear coming out as anger.

"I had to go, I didn't want to wake you." Sam smiled, swaying on his feet. Dean was across the room and into the hallway before Sam could fall. He pulled his brother against him, Sam's arms went around his neck.

"You should have," Dean whispered.

"You haven't slept much." Sam leaned into him. "Thank you."

"How do you feel?" Dean asked, not daring to hope.

"Better, Dean. It's gone. Something happened…"

"Dad must have killed the thing."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Can I have some coffee before dad gets back?"

"Sure," Dean said, swinging Sam up and carrying him into the kitchen.

"Do you think Rod would mind if we took another drive and went to see Ziggy?"

"No, I think it would be fine." Dean turned his back on Sam, fussing with the coffeepot, trying to hide the tears that were coursing down his cheeks. _It's going to be okay. He's going to be okay. _He scrubbed them off his face and turned around, smiling at his brother. Sam met his eyes with a knowing look. "Shut up, Sammy."

"Dean? Sammy?" John's voice came from the front door.

"In the kitchen, dad," Dean answered.

"Okay," John said, coming into the room. He froze. "Sammy?" he said softly before racing to his son and pulling him into his arms. Dean smiled at Bobby as the other hunter walked in. "You're okay!" It wasn't a question. John pulled away to look at Sam. "You're better!"

"Yeah, dad. Thanks to you and Bobby," Dean said, filling coffee cups for all of them. "Killing it was the answer."

John looked over Sam's head at Dean. "What?"

"Killing it. It saved Sammy."

"But Dean…" John began.

"What?" Dean looked from Bobby to his father.

"We never found it," Bobby said quietly. "Traces, but nothing else. We checked by the hospital, the other children all died at three this morning."

"They all died? At three?" Dean dropped into a chair. "If you didn't kill it… Why is Sam…?"

"I don't know," John said, setting Sam gently back in the chair.

Dean looked at his brother. Sam smiled at him—it was a secretive smile. Sam knew the answer even if no one else did. "What?"

"Hmm?" Sam sipped his coffee. "Nothing. When can we go see Ziggy?"

**Ten Years Later**

The car was silent, the silence had stretched for miles, for three long days. It simmered between them. Now and then, Dean would steal a glance at his brother. Sam would be staring out the window every time, jaw set, tense, anger in every line of his body. Dean sighed. It had been a bad hunt—made much worse by Sam's near fatal encounter with the thing. They managed to kill it, but Sam had been hit during the creatures death throws.

He'd almost lost Sam.

In those seconds of frantic CPR, in those long, long minutes Sam had hovered on the edge of consciousness Dean had thought he'd lose his mind. When Sam opened his eyes and made an off-handed crack, Dean lost it. Fear and guilt, as always, turned to anger and he'd vented it, then and there in the dark woods, rain pouring down on them. He'd shouted out fear and frustration and utter panic, trying to stop every word, but unable to once his mouth started going. Sam reacted to the anger—and it had been silent since then.

Dean had tried to apologize. He'd tried to explain. Surely, his brother knew it was just a reaction to nearly losing him. Again. How many times? How many close calls? It was all starting to wear on Dean. Of course, Sam's response would just set him off again.

"It's not your fault, Dean," Sam would say. "Not everything is your responsibility."

Dean would explode, Sam's calm could have that effect on him and then it would get silent, again. Miles now of nothing but silence. Dean was steaming, berating himself, hating himself. _Sam nearly died. My fault. _The fact the Sam took it so calmly, that he just accepted and moved on was driving Dean slowly insane. _How can he do that? How can he…_

"Pull over!" Sam's voice startled Dean.

"What?" Dean looked over at his brother.

"Pull over, Dean," Sam said, a smile lighting his face.

"What?" Dean asked again, glancing out the window. _It can't be. _Dean pulled into the fruit stand's parking lot. Sam was out the door before Dean could say anything. _I can't believe it, I didn't realize… _Dean put his head in his hands for a moment. The past suddenly there, right in front of him, the drives in the Lotus, the long night waiting for Sam to die in his arms. All of it. Suddenly there like a long healed wound opened afresh. _I nearly lost him then, too. _He got slowly out the car, walking into the stand. The stool was still by the cash register. Dean heard his brother's voice and bright laughter from the back of the stand. Dean walked past the fruit and out to the field behind the store.

Ziggy was joyfully whuffing into Sam's face, making soft murmuring sounds as he nibbled Sam's hair. Dean stopped and watched his brother. Sam's ability to grab happiness where he found it continually awed Dean.

"Nice to see you boys," the owner said, he was older, but Dean remembered the man's smile and his kindness all those year before. "Oh, customer. Take as long as you'd like." He walked back into the stand with another smile at Sam.

"He remembers me," Sam said, his hand on Ziggy's neck.

"You think?" Dean asked, stepping up to the fence.

"Maybe." Sam shrugged, the smile fading from his face.

"I didn't mean…" Dean began. _My foot- in-mouth disease is acting up more these days. I wonder if I can get a shot for it? _"Damn." He leaned against the rails, watching Sam pet the llama. Sam looked over at him, frowning. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"For?" Sam's frown deepened. "You aren't going to start again?" he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Start? What?" Dean ground his teeth together. _Don't yell, let it go. You just apologized, don't open your mouth. _

"Dean…" Sam looked away across the field where he and Ziggy had played ten years before. His brother was silent. Dean glanced at Sam, a tear dropped down his brother's cheek. "You have to forgive yourself, Dean. It wasn't your fault, what happened in the forest. Besides…"

"What?" Dean instinctively moved closer to Sam. "Besides what?"

Sam shrugged. "I knew I'd be okay."

"Your heart wasn't beating, that's about as far from okay as you can get."

"I never told you what happened, did I?" Sam said, turning to him.

"What?"

"That night."

"Sam? I said I'm sorry, it doesn't mean I won't murder you in a minute."

"Right," Sam laughed. "I meant that night—with Fincelius, the night I should have died."

"I always thought you knew more that you were saying. Dad must have asked me a thousand times what protection I used to save you, what I did." Dean sighed. "I didn't do anything. I told him that."

"But you did," Sam said softly.

"No, Sam, I didn't. You know that. We didn't even know where to begin. Fincelius wasn't deterred by salt, holy water couldn't save the other children… Nothing."

"He came for me, you know." Sam's eyes searched Dean's face, looking for a reaction.

"What?" _WHAT??_

"He came for me that night, Dean. To take me."

"No."

"It's true. He was there. He tried to take me."

"No." Dean was shaking his head. _It was that close? No. _

"You saved me," Sam said simply. Tears were on his cheeks, sparkling in the sunlight. Ziggy rested his head on Sam's shoulder. "You, Dean."

"Sam?"

"He couldn't take me. You wouldn't let him. I was almost gone, he was pulling me away and you said I didn't have to go, that Fincelius had to go through you. I believed, Dean. Every time I thought I was slipping away, I'd hear your voice 'I'm here, I've got you'. And I knew."

"Knew what?" Dean said around the ache that was suddenly in his chest. Sam could occasionally say things that seemed so obvious to Sam, but could shake Dean's world apart.

"He couldn't take me. You were there, I was safe." Sam sighed. "Fincelius finally gave up. And he told me, Dean. You saved me. Your—don't gag on the word—love and my faith in you." Sam shifted so he was leaning against Dean. "It's still there. That faith, that trust. It's why I didn't worry the other day. I knew you were there." Sam smiled. "It's not you fault if something bad happens. You aren't responsible for everything, Dean, you can't always be there when something happens. But…"

"But what?"

"I…"

"Sammy? What?"

"It'll sound a little stupid."

"Like I haven't said anything stupid the last few days."

"Okay," Sam said. "I guess I always know you'll be there, somehow, in time to stand between me and whatever is there."

Dean leaned against Sam. Ziggy reached over to nip at his hair with prehensile lips. "I always will be," Dean said softly. "Always, Sammy." He looked out across the field at the golden light playing with specks of dust, making the air sparkle. Dean wiped the tears off his face.

"What?" Sam asked, Dean heard the smile in his brother's voice.

"That has got to be the chick flick moment of the century, Sammy. Should we bake cookies now?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Neither moved for a long time, the silence between them now comfortable and warm. They stood watching the sun slowly drop below the horizon, then turned as one and walked back to the Impala.

_**The End**_


End file.
